


Ruined

by VictoriaBlue



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alastor - Freeform, Body Worship, Breastfeeding, Come Eating, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dominance, Dominant Reader, F/M, Hazbin Hotel - Freeform, Im sorry for that last one, Mentions of Murder, Mild Blood, Oral Sex, Sex-positive asexual Alastor, Sort Of, Submission, Submissive Alastor, dominant mc, ear stroking but in a sexual way, mentions of lesbian sex, mentions of vox, mild bloodplay, not breastfeeding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:13:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24767521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VictoriaBlue/pseuds/VictoriaBlue
Summary: After an exhausting meeting, Alastor needs to relax. Lucky for him, you're there.
Relationships: Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Original Character(s), Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 204





	Ruined

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO IT'S ME THE PORN LADY AGAIN and now I bring yet another porny self insert fanfic LESS THAN 24 HOURS AFTER I POSTED THE LAST ONE AHAHAHA I HAVE NO LIFE. 
> 
> Comissioners and writers notes:
> 
> So anyway, quick setting and explanation and shit. This is super self-indulgent, and I made it based on my own Hazbin Hotel OC, which is a towering tall, two hundred years old demon woman. She is supposed to be super old and hates politics so she simply hides in her dark creepy castle and judges people. Technically she couuuuld be an overlord but she said "meh I could break my nail" and decided she'd stay weak and alone, yes I can totally see myself there HAHAHA. 
> 
> But you can also fit your own OC, I kept it as general as I could, the only things that are actually described of the MC is that she has horns and is pale because well dead. 
> 
> Also, I just need to explore submissive Alastor, because while I know he is a really powerful demon with a weird moral compass and with the personality of a big psychopathic child, I feel like he would be soooo into praising and being pampered and Idk just, I needed him to be the submissive one here. 
> 
> Besides he's a virgin. If we are honest he probably jizzes his pants the minute he sees the ladies tit. 
> 
> I love you Alastor. 
> 
> Anyways, here internet, take my porn. 
> 
> EDIT: I added some changes because I let my mind drift and of course I came up with even more fucked up shit to add. There's come eating now.
> 
> WARNINGS: This has a little bit of bloodplay, noting to graphic but beware. As always, remember that English is not my first language, so you may find some mistakes.

_“Let me take care of you today, my pet. You’re so tense, let me make you feel good.”_

It had been a particularly long day for both of you, especially for Alastor. During that evening, he had to deal with a small meeting about territorial affairs, and among the overlords was his peculiar nemesis: Vox. 

Old as you were, you were aware that the picture-box-headed oddity had quite the history with Alastor, and while there was no bloodshed (oh, such a shame) during his meeting, you could see the exhaustion clinging to his muscles. 

Back in your time, you were an odd woman, refusing to obey the womanly expectations that were imposed on any proper lady. And you still were absolutely unwilling to be anything less than his equal. 

Still, you knew how to pamper your man.

“ _I just cannot stand his annoying presence and his weird shape, I swear is not an issue with technology! I wouldn’t mind a demon of the worldwide networks, it’s just that HE is one annoying bastard. Why must I spend so much time in his presence?”_ His shoulders slumped as his melodramatic tantrum ended. 

You pulled him with a swift move of your arms, your wrist tracing an elegant circle and pulling a fine bottle of his favorite Cognac out of thin air. Then, you pushed him to sit on the bed, a glass of the rich liquor in his hand. You kneeled behind him and kneaded at his shoulders to help ease his stress. 

_“I know, darling, but such are the obligations of any overlord. With power comes great pressure, and as you are one of Hell’s most powerful beings, it is only natural you’d be subjected to the greatest pressure, yes?”_

He groaned, rolling his eyes but allowing your soft hands to take his coat off his body. You did the same with his bowtie, and even took off the elegant monocle to let it rest in a small night table. 

Your hand on his shoulder had been gently massaging the tense muscle beneath until you felt him relax, now soft fingers simply caressed the curve of his bicep, your closeness no longer putting him on edge.

 _“Ah my precious, so tired, allow me to indulge you and make it better, let me heal your soul.”_ Sitting over your heels on the bed, you surrounded his neck and head with long, slim arms to bring him towards your bosom. His head laid comfortably over your chest, a cheek pressing against one soft breast as your hands caressed his hair. 

The pads of your fingers were massaging his nape, and then his ears, tracing their shape and rubbing the sensitive edges. The tips of your nails ran through the soft cartilage, scratching gently at the very base, thumbs drawing circles in the inner part of the tips and massaging the soft fur. He practically melted against you the second you started taking care of his ears, like a sleepy child. 

_“Let me tell you about my wonderful bath times. Would you like that, my dear? A fun story to help you cheer up._ ” 

He slurred a _“yes”_ against your sternum, his face comfortably pressed between your breasts. The soft caresses to his ears were making him drool all over the fancy lace of your nightgown. 

It was fine, he was allowed to ruin this one. After all, his ears were so sensitive he hardly touched them himself. 

_“Alastor, do you know what wonderful properties for the beauty of the skin and the health of the body can you find in blood? Oh, but my darling, of course, you do. Don't let me forget the harshness of your torture, the power you possess, your appetite that fills every dirty sinner with terror. You do know. But now, there’s just another use beyond, well… filling that strong appetite of yours.”_ You chuckled, long fangs scraping at your lower lip. Your voice was like a siren's song to him, he could feel himself softening against your body, the melody of your sensual voice lulling him to a high that made him feel drunk. 

Your praises felt like kisses against his skin, a pool of heat forming at the base of his stomach. It always made him tremble, inexperienced as he was. Such desires of the flesh never crossed his mind before, even when demons of all shapes offered him hose indulging pleasures. He was simply not interested. 

But then you, a terrifying centuries-old creature appeared and enchanted him with your sweet song, your coquettish nature, the breathtaking canvas of an elegant woman that hid a bloodthirst even greater than his own. 

At first, he had wanted to prove your strength, but his desire to destroy you was soon overridden by his need to understand you. You were not powerful, you were quiet, lonely yet elegant, locked up in your castle, away from territory takeovers and cleanses, only showing the prowess you possessed when your home was in danger. 

You could have been an overlord if you trained, if you cared. But you chose loneliness and weakness. 

Then he became fascinated, curious... and then your embrace ruined him. You were a hundred years older than him, it was only natural that you would teach him a thing or two. And you thaught him about desire and passion, you showed him his amazing ability to feel pleasure beyond his dirtiest dreams. **_You taught him to let go of all control, to leave himself to you._**

_“Vannesa was the daughter of a milkman. Ever since her mother was with child, she would drink just the freshest milk. Her mother’s milk was also the freshest, so of course, the baby grew to become the most beautiful young woman, with the softest, milkiest skin. I met her when she was fourteen. She was eager to become part of the court and I was in court. You won’t believe how innocent she was, the depth of her trust in me. When she turned twenty-one, she was the prettiest woman in court. Her skin pale and soft, velvety to touch, her breasts plump and full after feeding four children. Her health strong, her mind innocent, she trusted me and called me her friend. She was ready for harvest. So I took it upon myself to collect and consume the mature fruit.”_

He was half listening only, your fingers on his ears made him tremble and lose focus, his nose between plump, soft mounds of fat. His radio signal was buzzing, tingling your skin. He rubbed his nose and forehead against your milky chest, the glass of liquor still in his grip, he hadn’t drunk the content. You traced lazily the triangled shape of an ear with your index, then massaged the thickest part in the base. 

_“I invited her over to my bath, collected the freshest milk, and bathed with her. She was so innocent, oh, so young. Imagine if she ran into you during that time. You, my love, could have torn her apart with a glance. But not me, I was gentle, I bathed with her in fresh goat milk, shared my secrets, got close to her."_

_"She asked how I kept my skin so wonderfully soft.”_ Your smile spread wickedly, the long fangs resting sharp against your lower lip. _“I told her I had found the best elixir which I drank directly from the core. She, this milky-skinned naive girl, didn’t understand until I took her apart. I kissed her in my baths, caressed her chest and crevice with my hands and lips, and when she gave into my advances, I pushed her inside the bath and drowned her until she passed out. I drank from her neck and wrist until she was empty, her blood tasted like milk.”_

He shivered visibly, red eyes opening and shifting towards your face. _“Such an evil creature you are, my dear. What wouldn’t I give to witness that performance?”_ You, naked and covered in goat milk, holding the limp body of a young, beautiful woman; caressing her and kissing her before ripping her apart with your mouth, drinking her blood to fuel your own goddess-like beauty.

He gave an open-mouthed kiss to one of your breasts, his mind going wild with fantasies of him beholding your murders, of basking in his jealousy before allowing a lust much more familiar to take over at the sight of the blood.

Heat was pooling strongly at the bottom of his gut by the image alone, his breath becoming irregular, you could feel him hard and wet inside of his slacks. 

_“Her mother was devastated, she had breast-fed Vannessa until she was six, the girl barely left her side. Imagine her pain. I did what any soul full of pious intentions would, and fed on her too. Her blood too tasted like milk.”_

His glass of Cognac fell to the floor when the need to touch you grew stronger, his arms were around your waist in no time as he covered your right breast in more open-mouthed kisses, teeth sinking dangerously into your skin.

 _“Careful my love. I have no milk to offer.”_ You said. He growled, a sharp claw ripping apart the upper end of your nightgown so he could put his mouth on a sensitive nipple. You let your head roll softly to your side, humming in approval and rubbing your thumb against his right ear. _“Oh my. Very well, naughty boy, you may have what you want.”_

Slowly, you raised his chin with one hand while the other traced one single line over the same breast he was mouthing. Your claws ripped the skin like butter, and soon you had blood dripping from the wound and falling over your bust. _“There, my love. Drink from me.”_

He growled once again, his mouth crashing down on your nipple as he sucked and licked, consuming your blood like it was milk. You sighed, body falling on the bed, resting on soft pillows. The heat of his saliva sent shivers down your spine, the passion of his touch getting your sex absolutely soaked. Your hands were lazily tracing his head and ears as his tongue drew circles around your areola, his breath burning your skin with how hot it was.

The position allowed you to detach a hand from his head and move it below his waist, the other one remaining on his head as you felt his stomach, caressing the skin around his navel. 

Reaching inside his pants to get a grip of his hard-on was easy, and when you did, he choked, hips bucking up to rut against your hand. 

What you did to him was terrifying. He was like a lost child, like a deer in the jaws of a lioness (what a ridiculous idea), he felt drugged, high on your flavor, your voice, your touch.

Before meeting you, indulging in such things sounded impossible, ridiculous even. Why would anyone desire so much contact? The disgusting exchange of fluids and sweat and other stuff? 

Oh, but he understood now, even if his desire was limited to you and you alone. He understood the desire to become aroused, to be touched and to touch. He wasn’t sure if he was actually capable of loving, he never knew what love felt like, but the peace and comfort you brought him were familiar enough with the cheesy nonsense he saw in others. So he would call it love. 

When the overflowing wound closed, his mouth moved to your other breast, teeth scraping lightly at the hardened tissue of your nipple, lips sucking, painting your pale skin with kiss marks and hickeys. He purred, this was heaven. When he began tracing the underside of your tit and biting a little more, you stopped him. 

_“Just like that, you beast. Ain't you done? Aren't you satisfied?”_ Alastor took his mouth off your skin, his always-present smile was gone, lips stained with your blood and covered in saliva. He was blushing, eyes hazy. Ah, you felt the sudden need to press him between your thighs, maybe sit on that shattered face to make him work. 

But no, this time was to help him relax. 

_“You’ve ruined me, darling. I can never be satisfied again.”_ He confessed after a minute of silence. And then you pulled him into a kiss. 

Rolling over him to press his lithe body against the mattress was easy. He was pliant, relaxed. You still had trouble processing that this was the Radio Demon. You weren’t a little pondfish within this hellish shark tank, but he was powerful enough to snap you out of existence anytime. 

Yet you were here, straddling him, towering over him and kissing his jaw and neck, your fingers playing him like a toy, hips pressing down and grinding on his cock. You had him panting, drooling, totally sexed up and sensitive for you. 

A pretty shade of pink was coloring his face, the pointy tips of his ears were slightly flat against his head, and you almost couldn’t suppress the urge to lean in and bite. 

You wanted to devour this man. 

With your index, you tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, the motion prolonging until you were caressing the hard cartilage of the base, pinching it. You could feel a hammering need to taste him, bite the tip of his pointy ear, caress the pulsing point of the jugular with the tip of your tongue. 

_“Let me put that brilliant mind of yours at ease. Let me make you feel good.”_

The poor silken nightgown was ruined, clinging to your body by some fragments, so you ripped it off with no remorse. You had others. The sensual sigh of your naked torso made him growl, hands pressing right below your ribs with too much force. You hissed. 

_“So strong. You could break me if you wanted, right?”_

His hips bucked up, and you mewled like a kitten. Yes, you wanted to crush him. 

You could have taken all of his clothes off with a swirl of your hand, but decided against it, and instead allowed your fingers to hover over each button of his vest and dress shirt. You ran your palms over his pale chest and stomach once his shirt was open, pressing your lips right at the center of his ribcage and tracing a path of kisses down below. 

When you took his cock out of his pants, you were glad to see he was painfully hard, a prominent vein pulsating right at the underside, and an inviting pearl of precum crowning the head.

Your fangs retreated into your mouth to keep him safe, and then you took him inside, basking in the panting noises he could no longer hold as he was engulfed in the velvety heath. 

Your warm touch had him panting already, hands looking for solace in the bedsheets. You sucked gently on him, licking the underside of his cockhead and then running your lips along the sensitive vein. 

You had the experience, he knew as much. Thinking of you touching anyone else in this intimate way filled him with a rage much too unfitting for the moment, so he avoided the thought at all costs, focusing instead on the softness of your mouth, the warmth of your spit covering his sex, the suction that made him roll his eyes and grasp harder at the sheets. 

You loved breaking him, the musky taste of his skin overflowed your senses as you devoured him, hollowing your cheeks and sucking in while dragging him out of your mouth. His legs were shaking, the thin muscles of his strong abdomen tensing up, his chest rising violently with his breath. 

You saw his head fall back and his mouth hanging open when you decided to start fondling his balls while your mouth sucked on his tip.

It was lewd and noisy and he could feel your hums and moans, the vibrations driving him mad with need. 

Next, your tongue was tracing the pulsating vein, and then you were sucking one of his testicles into your mouth. Then the other. Your right hand stroking his shaft quickly. 

He slurred your name over and over like he was praying to his personal goddess, legs shaking, hips bucking into your touch. You took him into your mouth again, and this time your right hand settled at the base of his cock to stroke what you couldn’t fit. At the same time, your left hand returned to fondle his ballsack.

It was too much, his body felt like burning, his lungs collapsing, his heartbeat wild. 

And then he stilled completely and tried to reach for you, to grab the shiny horns that curled by the sides of your head, but he couldn’t. 

He orgasmed right there, ejaculating into your mouth, his body transforming into a shivering mess. With light fingers, you stroked his balls a little more, sucking on his softening cock and milking him for all he was worth until he was too sensitive and slurring "too much" over and over again. 

You rose then, mouth covered in spit, cum, and ruined lipstick, but breath controlled and expression compelled, lips firmly closed but stretched into a smirk. He, instead, was a mess.  
  
Slowly, your closed lips brushed against his pubes and traced a gentle path to caress his abdomen. Then, you brushed them over a hardened nipple, the slim muscles beneath his scarred skin twitched in surprise, his legs opening a bit more to welcome you between them. Soon you reached his neck, which you kissed with still closed lips. 

When you finally met his mouth, yours opened to give him a deep kiss, your tongue pushing the still warm cum into him. The dose of humiliation made him whimper and furrow his brows. Slim, long fingers took hold of his chin then, nails digging into his cheeks. Before he could protest, you spoke, straddling his hips and towering over his tired figure.

"Open your mouth." As you delivered your order, your voice lowered an octave. He did as told and allowed you to see the sticky semen resting on his tongue, his labored breath forcing him to shift the muscle now and then. 

You basked in the sight for a moment: red face and glossy eyes, his ears were flat against the top of his head. He was a panting, fucked out mess.

You took in the glorious image and then hummed, nodding almost proudly. 

"Good boy, you can swallow." 

His head tilted back for you to see his adam's apple move. Irresistible. Yes, you loved it when you broke him. As he regained his breath, your lips ghosted over his neck, the sensitive column of his throat, the pale chest, or his small nipples. 

You wanted to ruin him more, drown him in pleasure, render him incoherent with your touch. You could force him beneath you and play his body like a refined instrument. You could ride him until he was shivering, or take your time to finger him and positively empty his body. Milk him and force him to beg for you to stop. 

Your mind was following the dark path of control and dominance (there was so much you could do!) when he whined, taking you out of your own fantasies. Your mouth was marking one of his shoulders, and your hips had started to move on top of his pelvis, rubbing his soft cock again. But he was too sensitive. 

He was done, too high of the lingering pleasure, and too exceedingly relaxed to properly function again. Let alone satisfy you. 

It was shameful, but you were the cause of his current state. You would simply have to deal with the consequences. 

_“Good boy, do you want to rest now?”_

You had emptied him, and even if the thought of sitting on his face and having him return the favor was all too tempting, you were far too moved by his fucked out expression. He was still panting, eyes teary, legs trembling. This was what you did to the infamous Radio Demon, to a creature so powerful he could break every bone in your body. So strong that his mere presence inflicted fear among sinners, the mention of his name an ominous sound for the weak. _**He chose to give you this control.**_

 _“You’ve ruined me.”_ He said again, and you sighed, perfectly content. He was ruined, indeed, he had gone almost one hundred years without physical pleasures, and he was perfectly alright. But now? What would he do if he were to lose you? No, the mere idea filled his mouth with the sourest flavor. That wouldn’t do, no, he must never lose you. 

You purred and dragged him to lay over your chest again. All too soon, your hands were on his head once more, tracing his ears, caressing his soft red locks. 

_“I sure hope so.”_

  
  



End file.
